


In Hell, You Wait

by Mordhena



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Castiel, Castiel's Grace, Crowley Being an Asshole, Implied Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-28
Updated: 2014-11-06
Packaged: 2018-02-23 00:02:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2526542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mordhena/pseuds/Mordhena
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I've been standing on line for a week, waiting to see you." Castiel glared up at him.</p><p>Crowley chuckled. "You joined the express queue then..."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Written based on my head canon that Cas and Crowley used to be an item, but have not been together for some time due to various reasons which I can't give away in the notes ;)

Crowley couldn't remember a time when he had been quite so bored. He slouched on his throne eyes rolled back in their sockets, lips forming a sullen pout and barely noticed as each new case was brought before him. He'd long since given up even glancing at the charge sheets handed to him by an eager, nervous junior demon who shuffled at Crowley's side shifting his weight in a constant two step which might have been irritating if the king could bring himself to care.

"Your majesty?"

Crowley stirred. "Hm?" He glanced around the room and then let his eyes fall upon the female demon standing in front of the throne. "Oh, right. Guilty of whatever you're guilty of." He waved a hand, dismissing the case he hadn't even heard and ignored the protestations of innocence as the demon was dragged away.

"Er, actually, sire, that one was petitioning to be made a crossroads demon," The foot shuffler murmured close to his ear.

"Oh, well...she was probably guilty of something. Or going to be."  Crowley sighed. "Next." He leaned on one arm of the throne and let his thoughts wander.

"Crowley."

The sound of someone addressing him by name pulled the king's thoughts back to the here and now. He blinked, sat up a little straighter in his chair and waved a hand. "Out!"

The demons in the hall made no bones about clearing out, leaving the next supplicant standing alone in the middle of the room.

"I've been standing on line for a week, waiting to see you." Castiel glared up at him.

Crowley chuckled. "You joined the express queue then. To what do I owe the dubious pleasure?"

"I came to tell you it's done. Dean Winchester is no longer a demon."

"Knew I could count on you, love."

"Don't thank me, it was mostly Sam's doing. And don't…"

"Don't call you love? But Cassie, we used to be so close. Time was when you loved to hear me call you love, or sweetheart or angel...Slut, too. I recall how that used to make you…"

"Crowley!" The angel growled but the pink tinge stealing up from his collar onto his face gave the lie to his grumbling.

Crowley shrugged. "You look a lot better than you have been the past few weeks. You're welcome, by the way."

"You should not have done that," Castiel said. "I was -- _am_ ready to die. It was wrong to steal another angel's grace and I…"

"Like I said, you're no use to me dead, Castiel."

"Of course. You need me to live. To help you get things back in order, angels in heaven, demons in hell and Sam and Dean to run a little damage control that doesn't upset either side. I know that's what we need to do."

"Then you see my point, you need to live."

"I am still ready. I am still going to die. This grace will not last me any longer than the last one did."

"Then you need to find a more permanent solution."

"I know of none." There was a flicker of something behind those crystal blue eyes that told Crowley the angel was lying.

"Sure about that?"

"Yes."

"Take my advice, Cassie, don't get into any poker games."

Castiel tipped his head to one side, his blue eyes clouding with puzzlement. It was adorable and Crowley had to turn his face away, the angel could still get under his skin, despite its having been months since they had been any kind of an item with each other.

"Was there anything else?"

"Sam seems happy," Castiel said in one of his endearing but --totaly unrelated to the topic in hand-- segues.

"Why wouldn't he be happy. He's got his lover back," Crowley tried, and failed to keep an edge of bitterness from frosting the words. He smothered a wince at it, and got up from his throne to pour himself a shot of whiskey from the decanter he always kept on a sideboard.  "You're sure that Dean won't give me anymore trouble?"

"He's not a demon anymore, but there is still the mark of Cain to consider," Castiel replied. "He may still be a problem when it wants sated. He hasn't got the first blade anymore to help with that. He will probably look for you."

"He can look." Crowley sipped his drink and smacked his lips, holding the decanter out towards Castiel. He set it down when the angel shook his head.

"Perhaps Sam will be able to mollify him. Lovers are good for that."

Crowley scoffed. "Not in my experience." He downed the last of his drink. "Lovers are just...distractions."

Castiel flinched and Crowley couldn't help a small gloat to himself at that. It seemed that the angel was not completely impervious to the barbs on his tongue. It gave him a small and somewhat hollow sense of vindication to be able to sting his former lover.

"We were good together," Castiel offered.

Without speaking, Crowley turned to give Castiel a long, searching look. He let the silence thrum for a long moment and watched the angel fidget under his gaze.

"Well… Perhaps I should go," Castiel said at length. "I should find someplace to stay. I need to conserve my powers."

"What's wrong with heaven? Don't like the company?"

"Heaven is...complicated."

Crowley set down his empty glass and moved in on Castiel bringing himself very close, right into the angel's personal space. "You could stay here," he said. "There's plenty of room and it wouldn't be the first time you've spent a night in hell, or at least hell adjacent."

Castiel shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his blue eyes moving slowly upwards to lock with Crowley's own. He swallowed hard, the apple in his throat bobbing. "What...what about distractions?"

Crowley smiled. " _I_ won't be distracted," he said.

"Then, I'd like to stay." Castiel's pupils dilated and he swayed toward Crowley.

"And neither will you." Crowley stepped backwards, widening the space between them. "You have to maintain focus. Isn't that what you told Hannah? No distractions."

Castiel's face went through several swift changes of expression before settling on something between frustration and, to Crowley's dismay, relief. That emotion had not been what he was aiming for at all.

He covered his discomfiture by moving away to pour another drink. "Well, that's settled then. Help yourself to any spare cell. I'll see to it you're not locked in.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"I've got unfinished business, thanks to you," Crowley ground out. He gripped Castiel's hand and pushed it into his groin, letting the angel feel the still turgid bulge there._
> 
> _Castiel blushed, blinking rapidly and his jaw worked as he swallowed and cleared his throat. "I uh…"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy this chapter which was a pain in the neck to write. Kudos and comments are always welcome!

Crowley gave a groan of pleasure that turned into a low, rumbling purr as he stretched his spine under warm, oil slicked hands which ran the length of his spine from base to just below his neck. He murmured encouragement and decided right then and there; this massage was going to have a very happy ending.

  
The only thing wrong was that the hands administering it were not Castiel's. In fact, the angel was conspicuous by his absence. Had been since the day after Crowley had offered to let him stay in hell, to rest, to conserve his powers and to well, to bloody well _be there_ when and if Crowley should want him. Not that Crowley wanted him. No. Admitting to that would be a sign of weakness and if there was one thing he'd learned in his dealings with angels it was that you didn't display weakness. Not of any kind. Not to _any_ angel and more particularly, not to an angel who had an uncanny knack for getting under your defenses.

It had all started back when purgatory had been important to him. By a strange coincidence it had been important to Castiel, too. So there had been logic in proposing that they work together to achieve their aims. The fact that Castiel accepted the proposal still surprised him. But that hadn't been the biggest surprise.

Crowley had offered to seal their bargain in the usual way, and the angel had grudgingly agreed. It had started out just a kiss; until it wasn't. Until it was something more. Until it became something wild and hotter than hell. A spark that ignited a wildfire. That turned into a firestorm and resulted in the kind of angry sex that left even Crowley, consummate hedonist, masochist and --all around playboy-- if he said so himself, gasping for breath and wondering what in all hell had just hit him.

Shifting uncomfortably on the table, Crowley glanced over his shoulder at the she devil massaging his shoulders. Let's move onto the front shall we lambkin? He rolled over stretching out supine on the table.

"If it pleases my king," The demoness added more oil to her hands and smoothed them over Crowley's chest.

"Oh, it pleases, pet."

With a sultry chuckle, the girl leaned in close, her fingers digging into pectoral muscles as she made so bold as to kiss him. Crowley purred and lifted a hand to tangle into her hair with just enough force to hold her still. This was turning out to be a very pleasant afternoon. Crowley moaned low in his throat and let the girl up for air, closing his eyes as her slicked hands worked their way lower, over his abs.

Then suddenly, the smooth caresses ceased and he was left wanting as the girl stopped her ministrations. Crowley opened his eyes and looked for her. She had backed away from the table to press herself, wide eyed and trembling against the wall.

"What're you doing? Come back here," Crowley rasped.

"W-we have co-company my…" The girl was still staring, not at him, but at some point beyond him and Crowley turned his head, following her terrified gaze.

"Ah, perhaps you'd better leave us, sweetheart," Crowley said.

The girl wasted no time in making her escape. Squeaking with fright, she edged her way past Castiel who stood glowering in the doorway and vanished lickety split into the hallways beyond.

\---

Castiel leaned against the door frame, arms folded close to his chest and watched his erstwhile lover. "I would have thought your time would be better spent sorting out those who were…" He trailed off, his mouth suddenly dry as Crowley sat up and reached for a silk bathrobe draped over the foot of the massage table. Castiel was afforded a glimpse of the muscled chest and new, leaner frame as Crowley slipped the robe on and slid down from the table. The king had obviously been working out lately, and the effects showed.

"All work and no play bores the pants off me, love," Crowley said.

"Literally it would seem." Castiel walked into the room and took a seat by the small fireplace. Crowley was seldom without a fire when he was indoors and while it often made the rooms overly warm, Castiel was glad of the flames as a distraction just now.He watched as Crowley went to the side table and poured himself a glass of Brandy.

"Drink?" The demon asked and Castiel nodded.

"Please." He waited while Crowley poured another glass and brought it to him. He looked up, meeting Crowley's eyes as the drink was handed to him. "She was new, wasn't she?"

"Who? The girl?" Crowley shrugged. "I needed a new masseuse."

"May I ask what happened to the last one? Peter, wasn't it?"

"He probably did something to annoy me." Crowley sipped his drink.  "Demons are made every minute in hell and they can be unmade just as quickly. I don't tend to keep records."

Castiel lowered his gaze, stared into his drink. This conversation felt stilted, as though there were some kind of barrier between himself and Crowley. The previous discussion they'd had was the same. He frowned and swirled the liquid in his glass, not tasting the small sip he took before glancing up at Crowley again. "I went to check on Sam and Dean."

"Figures." Crowley rolled his eyes, let out a long suffering sigh. "How are the two numskulls?"

"Well. All things considered. Dean seems tired and Sam...bruised?"

Crowley turned away from him, staring into the fire and Castiel shifted in his seat, feeling the distance between then widen further. He wanted to break through the suave veneer the demon wore, wanted to reach out to him, but he was unsure on just how to do it. All Castiel knew was that anything would be better than this cool civility. Better than the outright rejection of their previous encounter. He  sighed and tried another gambit.

"Where's your dog? Isn't she usually hogging the fire?"

"Hellhound. Juliet's not a mere dog, Castiel. Perhaps she's pestering the staff for a dish of whisky and milk, or chewing on an Abaddon supporter." He paused for a long moment and then said, "Why're you here, kitten?"

The endearment was not lost on Castiel and he dared to hope that maybe, Crowley was softening. He looked up but the demon's back was still turned to him, his shoulders hunched, was that a hint of defensiveness? A crack in the armour at last?

"You said I was welcome...I thought…"

"You left," Crowley murmured, shooting Castiel a reproachful glance.

"You were busy turning demons to ash, I didn't think you'd care."

"Don't imagine for a moment that I do." The words were swift, clipped and Crowley resumed his contemplation of the flames in the hearth.

"Oh. Well." Castiel downed his drink in one draught and stood up. "Then perhaps I should go…". Castiel swallowed hard and set down his empty glass. "As I said, Dean shouldn't be a problem for now."

"Not so fast, love." Crowley moved quickly, blocking Castiel's exit, assuming he planned on walking out of the room. "You come in here, interrupting a pleasant afternoon's interlude, just to rabbit on about Sam and Dean and now you're going to leave, just like that?"

"Well, I assumed… you said you didn't care if I was here...I…" Confused, Castiel let the words die on his lips and stared, frowning into cold amber eyes.

"I don't care to spend my time listening to tales of Moose and Squirrel and their feelings."

"You care whether or not Dean is a loose canon."

A derisive snort greeted that. "You didn't need to repeat the bulletin. I heard you the first time. Dean's not a problem...right. Got that memo thanks."

"Fine. Well, thanks for the drink." Castiel stepped backwards only to have the demon move with him, pressing further into his personal space.

"I've got unfinished business, thanks to you," Crowley ground out. He gripped Castiel's hand and pushed it into his groin, letting the angel feel the still turgid bulge there.

Castiel blushed, blinking rapidly and his jaw worked as he swallowed and cleared his throat. "I uh…"

"Cat got your tongue, pet?" Crowley smirked. "It's okay, I don't need you to talk. It wastes time and breath that could be better spent in other ways."

"I...we…" Castiel stumbled. "Uhm how are you feeling?" He winced at the lameness of that. "I mean, the bloodlust have you…"

"Have I been using? Go on, kitten, say it." Crowley pressed closer bringing their lips bare inches apart, his breath gusting hot against Castiel's face. "What would it matter if I was? hm? No don't answer that, let me. If I was using, you'd be out of here in a trail of smoldering feathers, wouldn't you? You'd run a mile before you'd besmirch yourself with a junkie! You'd turn your back on me again just like the last time. You'd be happy to forget I even exist!"

"I nev...I never forgot you, Roderick I… not ever."

"I didn't see you coming to hold my hand, though, kitten. Where were you while I drowned in emotions that overwhelmed me? You were too busy, or too good for me."

"That's not true." Castiel leaned in and the demon backed off a pace or two. "I...I couldn't bear to watch while you…"

"Oh, spare me the noble speeches!" Crowley stepped back giving Castiel a shove that sent him stumbling backwards to fetch up back in the chair by the fire. "You weren't there. At the end of the day that's what matters. I had more empathy from a _demon_ than I ever got from you and _she_ royally screwed me over!"

"I'm sorry."

"Get out. Find somewhere else to conserve your powers. Maybe Sam and Dean will take you in, or...haven't you got work to do? I'm sure the lovely Hannah will be only too willing to help you find a resting place!"

"Roderick…"

"Go."


	3. Chapter 3

It was a full minute, not that time matters in hell, before Crowley realised he had not heard footsteps or wing beats. He scowled and turned to look over his shoulder to find Castiel standing there, staring at him with those big soulful blue eyes.

"You're still here."

"You told me I could stay," Castiel replied. "Roderick…"

"And then I quite distinctly recall telling you to go."

"I want to stay." Castiel took a step closer. "When I was dying, I thought about us. It is amazing how you realize what is important when there is the chance you will lose it."

"There is no us, not anymore," Crowley murmured.

For a long moment, Castiel said nothing. His face registered denial, hurt, and finally resignation. "If that is what you really feel, then there is no point in my being here," he said. "I will find somewhere else."

Crowley watched him. Noticed that the angel didn't actually act on his words. Noticed that he stood there, irresolute. He watched those beautiful eyes and the feelings that flickered in their depths. Feelings. Crowley had had his fill of those, when he was injecting blood into his arm on a daily basis. They made you needy, they dulled your instincts. He wondered how the angel could even function with all that nonsense cluttering his heart and mind. Crowley had certainly been unable to. He'd spent his days counting the hours to his next fix, alternately raging and crying and he'd made the foolish decision to trust a demon who was firmly in Abaddon's pocket.

For the most part, all that was gone now, but the memories remained and he sharply recalled what he had needed, _who_ he had needed almost as much as he craved the blood.

"I needed you, Castiel."

"I know!"

The admission irritated Crowley further and he turned away with a growl. "But that was just the blood talking. I'm in my right mind now and I don't need anything, I don't need _anyone_. You don't get to walk back in here as if none of that happened."

"I have spent my entire existence working for my father. I wanted to be there for you, but there was Abaddon, and Metatron and so many angels all pulling me in so many directions. What _I_ wanted had to wait." Castiel stepped closer. "You were what I wanted for me."

Crowley kept his back to the angel. He had to. He knew those eyes would be his downfall if he turned. He kept silent, grit his teeth and hardened his resolve.

After a long, thrumming silence Castiel sighed. "Very well. I will go."

"Go then. S'nice to see you still remember what's _important_!" He felt, rather than saw the angel flinch at that, and some small part of him regretted the jibe.

"Be careful, Roderick. There are still a lot of her supporters here."

"I'm dealing with them."

"Really? You're preoccupied. I've already had to dispose of two of your aids who were plotting against you."

"I would have found them out," Crowley replied. "Nothing gets by me for long." He turned to look at Castiel. "You should be careful about smiting anyone. Don't you need to conserve your powers?"

"Not where it concerns protecting you."

Crowley sneered "Oh, really, I'm touched."

"I've heard Dean say that about you," Castiel pointed to his head as he spoke. "Not that I know what that means, exactly."

Crowley covered a wince at the mention of Dean and felt a wash of self loathing for his reaction. Dean had been a mistake, and his continued preoccupation with the boy disgusted him. He heard Castiel shift behind him, shuffling his weight from one foot to the other, but Crowley would not give an inch. He had a thoroughly demonistic urge to make the angel squirm.

"Well," Castiel said. "I will stay at the bunker, then. I would be uncomfortable staying here if it makes you unhappy."

Oh, hells but the angel had become such a sniveler. Crowley made a face and shook his head. Where was the avenging angel he'd met back when he and Castiel had been decidedly fighting on opposite sides. Where was the megalomaniacal lunatic of his pre purgatory days? Crowley turned to look at him.

"Not with the lovely Hannah? The poor dear will be bereft."

"There is NOTHING between Hannah and I and there never will be. I _told_ her that!"

"There's no need to shout, kitten."

"Then stop accusing me! I was not the one about to…" Castiel waved a hand. "With the Masseuse!"

"Oh, there's the spark I've been looking for. You've thought about it though, haven't you? With Hannah?"

"NO!"

"Come on, Cassie, we're neither of us teenagers. There's no exclusivity between us! You can have whoever you want. Lucifer knows I do!"

Castiel sneered. "Fine then! Have it your way. Stay here with all of these empty shells. See if they can make you feel the way I do!"

Crowley closed the gap between them, pushing as far into Castiel's personal space as he could get. Toe to toe, face to face. "If that's what you really want, but I don't think it is. You came here because you want _me_ kitten."

"Isn't that obvious? I'm an angel and I have walked into hell!"

"Then why not say so? Why are you here?"

"Because I miss us."

"Say it! Why're you here, kitten?"

"For the sake of heaven! I want us, Roderick!"

"Say what you really mean, I want to hear you say the words, Cassie."

"I. Want. You!" Castiel ground out. His blue eyes flashed with pent up anger and he fisted his hands into the lapels of Crowley's coat.

Crowley pulled him in and kissed him hard, swallowing the needy moan that fell from Castiel's lips. He slipped a hand behind Castiel's head, hungrily biting at the angel's lips and ran his free hand down along Castiel's back, pulling their hips close together, letting him feel the urgent need there.

After a long moment, Crowley pulled away a little still nipping at Castiel's bottom lip. "There now, that wasn't so hard. Seven hells but you can be stubborn."

"You speak in riddles. You know I am not good at interpreting them."

I thought I was being plain enough." Crowley said. "But I can be plainer still, come on, let's take this to the bedroom and I will leave you in no doubt of what I want."


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Everything in him rejected the thought of Castiel's death. Angels are eternal beings, they live forever, except for those who fall in battle._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of fluff and sweetness to end the story. Hope you enjoyed the ride. 
> 
> Comments are always welcomed with a party

Crowley reclined in the leather armchair by the fire, a glass of whisky in one hand. his feet, minus shoes, rested on the coffee table and he swirled the amber liquid in his glass. He'd given up holding court for the day and was taking time to unwind. At his side, a large black hell hound sprawled in front of the fire, her dark soulless eyes regarding him dolefully.

"What?" Crowley frowned at her. "What can you possibly have to complain about. You've had more than your share of demons to chew on recently, and if money mattered here, you'd be costing me a fortune in whisky and milk. To that point, you've had two bowls of the stuff today and that's all you're getting!"

Sipping his drink, Crowley closed his eyes but found himself still aware of the hound's gaze. Sitting up the king lowered his feet from the coffee table and looked into the hell hound's eyes. "Juliette! You know papa doesn't like it when you stare." He stood up and moved to stand in front of the roaring fire. "I suppose your snout's out of alignment because the angel's been here, is that it?"

"He's harmless, I've told you that a hundred times. He doesn't come here to smite anyone...well...not usually, I know there's the small matter of those two aids he mentioned, but he was doing papa a service, They were conspiring. He's on our side." Crowley refreshed his glass from the decanter on the side table.

Juliette growled and lifted her head from her paws, keeping her dark eyes trained on him and Crowley let out a breath.

"He's nothing to me, sweetheart. I suppose he entertains some kind of romantic notion about the two of us, but he's an angel. Love is their default setting. He knows I don't do commitment. He knows that."

The hound made a wuffling sound and perked her ears in his direction.

"I do not pine! When have you ever seen me pine over anyone? Discounting the times when I was out of my gourd on blood. I call diminished capacities on that." Crowley downed the whisky in his glass and refilled it, casting a withering glance at the hound who still gazed at him from her spot on the rug.

"I'll admit I have been a little free and easy with the decrees of execution lately, but have you _seen_ what I have to work with? You'd execute them all too, in my place. I don't know what kind of operation aba-bitch was running here, but it seems like she would let any old soul become a demon. No, that's got nothing to do with pining. I just need to weed out the rubbish and put loyal people into the high ranking positions."

The hound barked and shook her head.

"Well, you might be right. There are trust issues, but maybe they'll come around now that Castiel's back as my consort. Dean was a mistake, I freely admit it. I should have known he'd be trouble."

Crowley watched as Juliette's posture suddenly changed, the hound scented the air and let out a low rumbling growl before she got to her feet and stalked out of the room. He watched her go and then moved to stand by the fire. There was only one person who would make Juliette give up her place on the hearth rug.

A moment later, Castiel stepped into the room. "I thought I would find you in your state chambers," he said.

"I don't work all the time," Crowley replied. He watched as the angel crossed the room and got right up into his personal space. Castiel pulled him into his arms and kissed him, bold and demanding and Crowley let him do it. He explored Castiel's lips with his tongue and then sparred with Cas's tongue when the angel opened to him. He savoured the taste, the feel of him, the subtle burn as the grace within the angel touched on the lack of grace within Crowley.

After long moments he pulled away. "Well, hello, kitten," he purred.

"Hello," Cas replied, his lips curving in the tiniest hint of a smile, more than he would ever show to anyone else, perhaps, apart from Dean Winchester. The angel was nine kinds of crazy about that boy for whatever reasons, celestial bonds or some such nonsense Castiel used to explain it. "Did I tell you how much I like this room?"

There he went again with those left field segues. Crowley smiled. "I redecorated."

"The fireplace, the rug, the heat on my wings," Castiel added. "It's...nice."

"Time was when you used to complain about the heat, kitten."

"Time changes things. I feel the cold now."

"You really need to do something about your grace, love." Crowley poured a glass of malt and handed it to the angel. "A permanent something."

Castiel took the glass and sipped the liquor. He met Crowley's eyes and let out a small, exasperated sigh. "I won't make a deal with Metatron, Roderick. He has killed and maimed more angels than all the fighting between angels and demons ever has."

"No one's saying you should, kitten, but you can't live forever on borrowed grace."

"I know. So I will live, weaken and die, but while I wait for that to happen you and I will try to restore the balance."

"Dying's not an option. I've told you you're no use to me dead. I need you to keep the Winchesters in line."

"I'll do that, for as long as I can." Castiel leaned in and stole another kiss and Crowley let him.

It was minutes again before they resurfaced. Crowley pulled back first, meeting those beautiful blue eyes. "So if you won't parley with Metatron, perhaps…"

"You won't make any deals with him either," Castiel said. "He would destroy you as quickly as he destroyed thousands of angels."

"I wasn't going to suggest making deals with him. He said your grace is there, in heaven. For Lucifer's sake just go and find it!"

"Heaven is infinite, Roderick. He could have hidden it in any realm, in any dimension. Where would you suggest I start looking?"

"Then give him to me! I'll find out where it is if I have to flay him alive."

"No. He's dangerous. He'd trick his way into taking over hell. He'd have you killed. I will not take that chance."

"You can't just give up, love."

"Fergus Roderick MacLeod, I am not giving up. I am choosing who I want to be with at the end. That is you. If you'll have me."

Crowley frowned. Everything in him rejected the thought of Castiel's death. Angels are eternal beings, they live forever, except for those who fall in battle. Battle was a noble way to die though, it wasn't an insipid thing. It wasn't mortal. It wasn't the slow wasting away, the faltering ebb and waning of strength. It wasn't right. Castiel was worth more than that. Castiel was...Castiel was _his_. He didn't want to let go. But he couldn't say any of that. He didn't want to sound or to _be_ needy. He drew a small shaking breath and let it out.

"Don't call me Fergus. You know I hate it."

"Or what? You'll spank me? Again?" Castiel nuzzled Crowley's neck, nipped at his earlobe. "Please, Roderick, let it go." He made a trail of kisses along Crowleys jaw and then slowly slid to his knees on the floor. "Let's not fight."

With a reluctant sigh, Crowley nodded and reached down to tangle his fingers into the angel's coarse dark hair. "You can let it go," he said. "Personally, I prefer to keep my feelers out for any solution I can find to your grace problem."

Castiel looked up at him, eyes darkening with want as he started to unknot his tie. "As you wish. I won't stop you. I love you."

"You love everything today, the room, the rug, the fire...me."

"Perhaps you made me see things with new eyes last night." Castiel slipped the tie out from under his collar and handed it to Crowley. He held up his hands, wrists together and waited for Crowley to bind him with the tie.

"Very pretty, kitten. But there's room for improvement," Crowley said. He waved a hand and all of Castiel's clothes except the tie vanished. "Much better. Stay on your knees, pet."

Castiel looked up at him and then closed his eyes as he unfurled his wings and allowed them to settle along his back. The black feathers gleamed in the dancing light from the fire and Crowley admired them for a long moment.

"I've always wondered," he said. "Why black wings? Lucifer's are white. I'd assume your brothers' wings are white. Yours are black."

"My wings can be any colour I choose," Castiel replied. "I always thought white wings a symbol of purity. I'm not pure."

"I guess not, my rebellious angel."

"I can change them," As Castiel spoke, his wings shifted a little, rustling the feathers and as they settled, they changed to a deep azure that matched his eyes.

Crowley tipped his head to one side, pondering and then shook his head. "No. Too insipid. I much preferred the black."

"As it pleases," Castiel shook his wings again and they settled to black.

"Much better, kitten. I like you like this, sweet and submissive."

"Needy."

"Patience, love. This is hell, after all. In hell, you wait."

~FIN~


End file.
